


hosts with a dfuck house

by threefourthstime



Category: Twitch Plays Pokemon (Let's Play)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threefourthstime/pseuds/threefourthstime
Summary: After you've been controlled by a mob of dimension-hopping meme creatures, your perspective on things might kinda change a little. At least there are other kids with the same thing in common. It doesn't matter that some of them will always hold grudges. It doesn't matter that some of them are from alternate universes. They'll have to learn how to deal with each other eventually.





	1. old habits

**Author's Note:**

> i will give life to this tag if it kills me

List of problems he anticipated, upon the universe merger: how does that even _work_? What are people going to do, with doubles of themselves walking around? What about the people who have conflicting memories suddenly, what do they do? Now that it’s obvious they’re real, can he get Oak sent to jail somewhere? Do the glitches come with? Does that OLDEN thing come with? This was all super last-minute.

List of problems he didn’t anticipate: whatever the heck’s going on down the hallway right now.

It’s maybe a month after the event that shoved his virtual home-universe up against the closest match and shoved. Okay, a month and three days and like five hours. A lot’s happened. Most relevantly, Abe…doesn’t really have a house anymore. There’s a house in Pallet Town, but Red’s mom lives there, and Evan’s mom still lives there because someone screwed up the timelines, and actually right now _nobody_ lives there because there’s some sort of legal battle going on?

He kinda wishes he could go back to Mt. Silver and study from there. But Red would get there first, and also in this world you can’t even reach the summit because it’s full of jagged holes in spacetime. The closest to a story Abe can get from Red is a casual shrug, like, _whoops, not my fault. Could’ve happened to anyone._

So instead, as of yesterday, he and Red and Evan are holed up in one of Cly’s vacation homes. It’s a nice place, decently far from civilization, though way roomier than Abe’s ever had any need for before. Everybody gets their own space; everybody’s sleep cycles are either at odds or nonexistent; there’s internet and it’s not even dialup. It works.

Except he’s starting to suspect it doesn’t work, like, at all. As evidenced by the noises.

“Mmmph?” says Abe, dragging himself out of bed. He fumbles for his glasses and gets fingerprints all over them before shoving them onto his face, and opens the door. “Guys, what’s–”

_crash_

“–going on,” he finishes, rubbing one eye. “Um. Oh.”

There are scratches taken out of the hallway wallpaper, and a garbled mess of letters where half the carpet used to be. He grimaces and hops his way to the staircase in the world’s most surreal game of The Floor is Lava; the stairs don’t look much better. The kitchen–of all things, someone forgot to close the fridge.

It doesn’t take him long to get to the scene of the crime–he knows before he even gets to the front door. An absolute Scene is going on outside, and just the half-second it takes to register this gives him a headache. The cobblestone is peppered with a little blood and a little of something that would have been blood if it had come from a human. He can account for about half the problem; he remembers the first time he ever met Red, in a place carved out between their dreams…that had definitely been interesting. His alt-universe kinda-mirror-brother has this precarious balance point between “divine wrath” and “dude eat a Snickers,” which Abe suspects should bother him more than it does. But the rest of this mess…

Well, that’s one question answered. The glitches definitely came with.

“Didn’t he _warn_ you this would happen? You’ve already taken so much from me–”

“Oh, come on, you think I had anything to do with that? Besides, it’s been billions of years, get over it!”

“–it’s only fair that I take something from _you_ in return. I’m already sick of that _smug_ look of yours, like you think you’re better somehow–”

“Whatever, who has the millions of followers, huh? Oh yeah, it’s me. So shut up.”

Abe chances a peripheral look at Red–yeah, he’s doing the creepy tentacle thing again, that’s great. So he aims to glare at Evan instead, and, oh. Yikes. That’s a level of creepy on par with Red’s, he’s got wings made of abstract nonsense, characters he could almost read if he just…listened, for once…Abe’s gaze slides right off and just keeps going, like, nope. It’s not gonna deal with this.

So instead Abe closes his eyes and says, “Guys. _Guys_. Can, uh, can you give me maybe a minute, to say that this is stupid?” There are still suspicious glitchy and screeching noises going on, which he takes as a no. “Guys!” he adds as loudly as he can, and that’s enough to earn a brief pause. “Thank you. First off, uh. Red, what did we decide about murdering people?”

“To not to,” grumbles–oh, that’s gotta be Helix, out of Red’s vocal chords. It’s never been relevant before, living in different universes and all, but…do Red and Abe sound almost exactly the same? Seriously? That’s dumb.

“And Evan,” Abe adds. “I’ll admit I don’t know you as well but _come on_. Your ceiling is clipping out of this plane of existence. What are you gonna do when it rains?”

“It was in my way,” says Evan and/or whatever piece of the glitch gestalt is in his head at the moment. “So I fixed it.”

“That’s not fixing it,” Abe sighs. “Fixing it is…what will happen when you pay the carpenter guy, or something. Now, seriously, stop.”

A shrug. “He started it.”

“‘ _He started it_ ,’” Helix mimics. “Whatever, does the word ‘released’ ring any bells?”

“Don’t act like your followers haven’t done worse.”

“Ooh, ooh, or how about that timeline where you killed all us _real_ gods and ended the world, huh? Good times.”

“You’re right, every moment I listen to _you_ I remember it all the more fondly. Do you recall when you two ripped a hole in the universe, just because you felt like it?”

“ _You ate the last slice of cake, you asshole_ –”

“Guys,” says Abe, narrowly resisting the temptation to just sink to the ground and hold his head in his hands. “Still stupid. Stop it. Or,” he adds on impulse, “no one gets any cake, ever.”

“What, really?”

Abe nods. “Mm-hm. No birthdays. No, uh, any other times you’d have dessert. Ever again.”

Both of them mutter things that Abe suspects are probably unknowable profanities. “Ugh, fine.”

“I’m not going until you do.”

Then, in unison, there’s the noise of everybody’s bonus limbs retracting, and a thud. Abe opens his eyes to see two regular, disheveled-looking teens, sprawled out in the grass. Evan’s lost his hat at some point; it likely fell out of the world somewhere. Red looks a little more put together, probably because he has a lot more practice. (Oh, hell, Abe does not need anyone else with practice at this.)

“You guys okay?” he asks cautiously.

“Mmph,” says Evan. “Sure. Yeah. I’m gonna go buy a roof.” And he’s walking off, just like that.

“Okay,” says Abe, wondering what the nearby town will think of him; he’s still glitching a little. They’ve probably seen worse. “Red?”

Red looks up and very slowly, very deliberately gives Evan the finger.

“Great.” Abe sighs. “As long as that’s settled. I’m going back to sleep.”

(They’ll have to deal with this better at some point, he thinks; but not when it’s four in the goddamn morning.)


	2. on the other side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some advice is in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> usually this "friends on the other side" thing doesn't work out  
> (but really, claiming people's souls is so last millennium)

Pepe can’t really say he’s intimidated by the gods, anymore. There’s just–so many of them, to start off with. Also he keeps finding ways to summon them just scattered on the ground. In the space of maybe a day he calls like four fossils into mortal forms, and one of them’s just a really upbeat Koffing, and they all end up in the PC anyway. Not that he’s going to disrespect them or anything–heck, he barely knows how to talk around strong trainers, let alone entire cosmic forces. It’s more like…you kinda get desensitized after awhile, is all. Half the time his teachers are scarier.

So he doesn’t quite realize that, maybe, this isn’t the default setting for everyone. He’s halfway through recounting the full story to Pearl when he blurts out, “So you’re saying Giratina was like your penpal???”

“Well, uh, I’m–I’m not sure I’d say that,” says Pepe, blinking uncomfortably.

“But, come on!” says Pearl, leaning in closer. “Come on, I’ve gotta hear this!”

“…Okay,” says Pepe. “It’s not all that exciting, though?”

“It totally is,” says Pearl, and he keeps insisting that all the way through.

* * *

The first message comes shortly after his trial venture to the Old Chateau. Pepe’s just walking around, fiddling with his watch while the Voices get their act together. He taps nervously at the calculator and he can tell he’s maybe annoying the only other guy in the Underground with how these cries echo but he can’t _help_ it, if they think he’s occupied maybe they won’t try to talk to him so he keeps tapping away, delele-dele-delele- **gwaauuguhghgh**

He jumps. Is this place haunted too? Are these noises going to follow him wherever he goes? Great, two sets of hearing nonsensical garbage, that’s great, he loves it. But while he’s trying to get a persistent smudge off the Pokétch’s screen there appears a message, in simple, serif font, tiny letters. He didn’t even know this thing took messages? It reads,

**Hello.**

That’s kinda weird. He doesn’t know how to respond, both because he wouldn’t know what to say and because there’s no button for that. So he just ignores it until a second message pops up, and this one says,

**What’s up.**

Nice, okay. Pepe silences the Pokétch and decides not to look at it for awhile, instead tapping at the buttons blindly. After a minute something buzzes in his bag. It’s the Vs. Recorder.

**This might sound super weird, but stay still.**

That…does sound super weird, yes. Actually that message would probably be his cue to run away, except that the Voices are going _ooh shiny_ and _wtf_ at the Vs. Recorder so he can’t move. He can’t even get to the end of this tunnel, much less out of the Underground–

Okay, it’s a good thing he can’t get to the end of the tunnel. Because something just exploded.

The only other guy comes running his way out of the aftermath, picks Pepe up under the arm like he’s a football, and drags himself and Pepe back to the surface. “You alright, kid?” asks the guy, breathing heavily.

“Um, uh, yeah? What happened?”

“I don’t _know_ , kid,” says the guy, wide-eyed. “Never seen that happen before. I was just doubling back to see where I dropped my radio when the whole end of the cave blew up! Maybe the thing had a busted battery? I dunno, kid, but I’m lucky I dropped it, you’re lucky you were far away, because otherwise the two of us might not be alive!”

“Huh,” says Pepe. “Um, okay.”

A couple hours later he turns the sound back up on his watch and there’s a message waiting for him: **Thanks. That would have sucked.**

* * *

They’re not all that frequent, but the messages sure do keep happening. Some of them come over the Vs. Recorder, sometimes they flash across other people’s TVs, but mostly they go with the beeping of Pepe’s Pokétch, always undercut with the same sound, the kind that drops the temperature by a degree. **Don’t get that Trainer’s attention, by the way,** one message says. Then he gets the Trainer’s attention and she defeats him five times in a row.

Eventually he stumbles into the reply function; he lingers on the cramped screen for awhile before tapping out, _Who is this?_

 **Not anyone too important,** comes the response. **Think of me as…well, first, how have the Voices been treating you lately?**

Oh, so not only can this person see him somehow, they can also read minds–or, wait. Maybe it’s just that obvious? He’s trying to be subtle as best he can; he’d hoped everyone just thought he was really clumsy. Pepe considers it: it’s been barely two hours since the Voices’ last PC trip, and they’re already pushing to go back. _Ok_ , he types. He waits another half hour for the **gwuuuuhhh.**  

 **Well, you can think of me as,** and then they presumably hit the send button by accident, and Pepe waits another forty-five minutes. **Sorry. My point is I’m familiar with those Voices of yours. I watch them, sometimes. I like to keep eyes on them.**

 _Ok,_ Pepe types again.

**By the way, you might want pick up some mail next time you go shopping.**

_What?_

His mystery correspondent decides not to elaborate. Pepe sighs and goes back to solving this puzzle for the thirtieth time.

* * *

Over the next few days Pepe collects enough cryptic warnings to build a house out of. One time it’s **try to stop registering that Explorer Kit,** and the next it’s **if you ever get near Mt. Coronet pick up some revives or something,** and the next it’s **brb family feud’s on.** They range from “probably helpful if he could elbow the Voices out of the way” to “pain in the ass,” and it’s plain luck whether or not he gets the chance to carry any of them out. More often or not he’s just falling over his own feet, anyway, but he supposes it’s a kind gesture, and all.

It’s not like the Voices can leave the Old Chateau alone, either. Not the most exciting of places, aside from the mysteriously working TV that appears to be a portal to some sort of hell. Mostly what keeps happening is that he gets swamped by Bulbasaurs, and he gets splinters from the rickety railings on the stairs (either that or fall flat on his face), and then either he runs away from the thing or it runs away from him. And yet the Voices are intent on it. He supposes he can see why they’d like it, but seriously?

And every time he turns on the TV, he hears a distinct **gwyaaaaghhhhh,** just like the kind that goes with all these mysterious messages.

“So that thing in the TV,” he says, after one of these visits. Ponyta blinks at him. “Is there any chance that it’s _not_ the thing that’s talking to me over and over?”

“Nay,” says Ponyta. Pepe’s not sure why he’d hoped for anything different.

* * *

But maybe two feet into the Distortion World, Pepe is starting to second-guess himself. That mass of shadows and claws and eyes that dragged Cyrus straight into the abyss–the thing he keeps hearing cry out in a warped version of that sound he’s grown used to, a noise that echoes infinitely–the thing that Cynthia says created this place, with the sideways waterfalls and platforms that give him motion sickness and the creeping sensation of something burrowing under your skin, like you’d be changed just by being here–

Well…he guesses it’s not too bad, compared to what they get up to in Kanto sometimes? But still. Not very polite. This creature doesn’t seem like the kind to say to him, “How’s it going?”

By the time he reaches what might count as the center of this dimension, Cynthia and Cyrus are staring each other down, a few feet from a sheer drop into void. Cyrus still has a sign taped to his back, a hastily-scrawled HELLO MY NAME IS PANSY. Cynthia doesn’t even have a Pokéball in arm’s reach, even though Pepe’s pretty sure she’s Champion or something? He never used to watch TV, not before the Voices, but he’s definitely seen her around. She could defeat all of Team Galactic singlehandedly and instead she’s leaving it to Pepe, and to the Voices. Thanks, Cynthia.

He doesn’t say that, though. What he says is “Um,” and both the adults here turn to look at him.

“I find it absurd,” Cyrus says, “how much you look like _him_.”

“Uh, w-what?”

But apparently he feels like being cryptic today, because he leaves it at that, and then suddenly they’re in a Pokémon battle. It’s…not all that difficult, even with the Voices doing their best to screw it up. If time were real here, it would be over in a matter of minutes.

And then…

“Don’t believe his lies,” says Cynthia. “It’s not possible that a Pokémon can make the world disappear.”

“Um,” says Pepe, “yeah, that, it would be nice if it wasn’t? But, um, are you sure, because no one’s exactly tested it before. Right? Actually they’ve probably tested it before never mind okay you probably know what you’re doing ignore me.”

She smiles at him, just a little. “Let’s go meet Giratina.”

Pepe’s never been good at introductions, so he’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do, here. Just small talk? Nice weather we’re having today in the abyss, isn’t it? He shrugs and approaches the edge of the platform, and the swirling shadows begin to coalesce, and Pepe says, “Oh. Huh,” because he totally called it.

 **Hello,** says Giratina.

Pepe hesitates, then waves. “Hi.”

 **How are you doing?** says Giratina.

“Well uh, everything’s kinda okay, except…” He gestures vaguely. “But, um, it’s fine.”

 **Good to hear,** says Giratina, **because my day has been absolute shit.**

“Ah,” says Pepe.

 **I mean, I don’t know what I expected,** Giratina adds, glaring–oh, it’s not glaring at him, it’s glaring at Cyrus. **Ever since I realized he hadn’t–hang on–he still hasn’t noticed that?**

“Um, I think the grunts were…too scared to tell him.”

 **Bug Catcher Pansy,** and the legendary almost _snorts._ **Dude. I’d tell him, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it as long as he doesn’t q͞u̸it w͠a̵ki͘n̵g m̨e ͘up҉–**

To Pepe, it just sounds like someone talking too close to the microphone; he winces. Donphan, on the other hand, meeps in pure terror and starts quivering like she’s about to pass out.

 **Whoops,** says Giratina. **I have that effect on people sometimes.**

“No, it’s fine,” says Pepe, quickly recalling her to her Pokéball. “Happens all the time.”

 **Anyway. Do you know,** Giratina says testily, **how many times this _moron_ has dragged me into his destroying-the-universe nonsense? How many times he’s trapped himself here, refusing to do a thing different in _all these realities_ –**it does something that makes the world look more broken than it already is **–do you know how many times I’ve had to deal with him?**

“…how many?” says Pepe.

 **About four,** says Giratina.

“Yeah,” says Pepe, nodding. “Yeah, that does sound like a lot.”

 **So**. Giratina nods toward Cyrus, who’s just…staring, like he hasn’t heard a word of the conversation? Cynthia has her head tilted, but Pepe’s not sure she can hear either? **Thank you for defeating him on the first try this time. But, if your friends are done throwing Pokéballs at me…**

Pepe looks at his arm, which has been rapid-fire throwing Great Balls all this time. Thanks, Voices. “Uh, sorry,” he says, and tries to nudge his bag out of his own reach.

 **Then,** says Giratina, **farewell, I’m out.**

There’s a popping noise and then Giratina is…very out. Definitely out. It’s not even here anymore; it just teleported away. Pepe turns around; Cynthia nods at him, while Cyrus is still staring, making a soft, strangled noise like an overheated computer. Eventually he gathers himself enough to make actual words.

“That shadowy Pokémon…you quelled its rage by refusing to battle it?!”

“Um,” says Pepe. “Yes? Yes. Sure.”

* * *

So maybe a week later Pepe’s staying over at Pearl’s house–kick back, relax, close the windows so the don’t get visited by the press asking about his life as Champion or his life as that guy who helped take down Team Galactic–and it’s Pearl’s idea to put on a movie. Which involves, you know, turning on the TV. They haven’t even worked out the DVD player yet when all the lights in the room flicker and there’s a familiar, piercing noise and a coiled mass pulls itself out of the screen, stretching. It shrinks to fit the size of the room, but its wings still nearly take out the ceiling fan. Pearl throws the remote out the window.

 **Oh, hello there,** says Giratina, **is this your friend?**

“Hi,” says Pepe. “Um, yeah, that’s Pearl. Pearl, Giratina.”

 **A pleasure to make your acquaintance,** says Giratina. A beat. **…’Sup.**

“lskdfjgdfkjgdsfkh,” says Pearl.

 **Never gave this to you the other day,** it adds, dropping a slip of paper into existence in Pepe’s hands. **Wasn’t really a good time, you know? I heard there’s somebody who really needs to talk to you. You should give them a call.**

“Okay,” says Pepe. “Can you, um, can you get out of the popcorn please?”

Giratina looks down. It’s kind of turned the popcorn into antimatter.

“Actually, um, you can have that if you want.”

 **Sweet,** says Giratina.

Pepe’s not sure where he expects the number to lead, actually? Maybe it’s a portal to hell? Maybe it’s just that rejection hotline. So he drags his feet for like a week on calling it, and when he does he kicks back on the couch but also holds the phone like a foot away from his ear, and says, “Um, hi?”

“Oh, hello,” says the person on the other end. “This is Alice.”


	3. what was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan meets someone.

He's not sure why he’s surprised that things went wrong so quickly. The new people visiting his and Abe’s and (dammit) Red’s house didn’t seem all that bad, at first. They were from some pair of regions he’d never heard of, maybe because they didn’t exist in his old world, but that was fine because it was harder to get stories mixed up that way. They’d finally reached a point where it didn’t seem super nosy to ask about their’ journeys. And then halfway through the story Abe decided it was a good idea to interrupt:  “By the way, how are things, uh, holding up out there?” He gestured. “Like...reality-wise.”

Paul shrugged one shoulder. “Not too bad? Weirdest thing I ever saw was a bunch of legendaries having a pizza party. I mean, I guess there were the Seels, too, but they left a good tip.”

Cyan, however, paused. “What do you mean, reality-wise?”

“I dunno. Just anything that seemed like it shouldn’t be possible?”

“Well, I ran into some...stuff while I was on my journey, too,” said Cyan. “They weren’t bad or anything, though! I think mostly they were just, well, lonely.”

“...Right,” said Abe.

Cyan nodded, then paused. “Speaking of...oh--” Cyan pulled out a Pokéball. “Here, I’ve got somebody that wants to meet you. It says you seem kinda familiar…?”

She pressed the center button and in a flash a _thing_ appeared, a rush of sparks that grabbed at the surrounding air and sank its talons in _wait who where come back where is it come back._

It was out for maybe five seconds, rushed back to its ball by Abe’s panicked cry of “okay okay maybe later, no Pokémon in the house please maybe later thanks.” But that was enough. And Evan hasn’t stopped thinking about it all day, so as soon as everyone else falls asleep Evan creeps out to the dining room, where Cyan left her bag hanging on the chair (so _trusting._ How are there still people like that?) and grabs the Pokéball and steps outside.

“I know what I saw,” he mutters offhand before tossing the ball. “So don’t try to pretend.”

Somehow the thing looks even worse out in the starlight. Its feathers are sticking out and there are fractures in its eyes like they’re made of glass and its whole half-presence screams _empty_ loud enough that Evan can hardly breathe. He hadn’t expected something this...well--pathetic. 

“You’re kidding,” says Evan. “You’re kidding, right?” He smothers a laugh in his hand. “Oh, _man_.”

Phancero eyes him questioningly, then flies off into the tree, where it perches among the highest branches. Its path is jagged like it’s passing between dimensions without even realizing it. Pieces of it are almost detached; it’s just a worthless jumble of...of…

“Look at you,” says Evan. “You don’t even know what you used to be, do you?” He swallows. “But I do.”

Evan takes a step forward. “And I bet all the others will figure it out any time now,” he adds, as the bird stares. “Do you really think anyone wants to see _this_ \--whatever this is supposed to be?” And another step, and another. “Do you think anyone wants you here as a reminder? Funny how you had to show up as soon as I can start pretending things are okay, huh?”

It just tilts his head, always staring at him with those glassy eyes. Evan takes another step forward he’s sick of having this thing look down on him he gestures and the ground unlatches beneath him and twists into a staircase and he takes the steps one by one and they echo like anyone cares about hearing them. “Don’t just sit there! Are you so _broken_ you can’t even tell what I’m talking about? Don’t you recognize me? _I was there too._ ” He grabs the branch and lets its bark rip open his palm. “How come you don’t have to remember, huh? How come you get to _exist_ , you know nobody wants to see you, right? They know what you did! They know you’d do it all again if you could! So why do you even bother?!”

He stops, his breath hitching. The leaves rustle and the ground trembles and it’s still, still staring. “So are you--is this like back then? Are you still gonna tell me you know how to fix this?”

Phancero looks at him. Then it shuffles over and pokes at his hand. Lightly--so light he barely feels it.

Evan crumples, burying his face in his arms.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working title for this one: "sad boy yells at bird"


End file.
